Puppetslaves United

[Gavin Luper]

This is a poetry-based assignment I had to do for class. Anyone who's read my stuff in the Poetry Corner knows that I'm not much of a "poet" as such, but I felt like breaking away from my standard short stories, even though my strength is really in narrative. Nonetheless, this broke up the monotony and challenged me a lot, so it was good fun to do. I thought it might be worth posting on here to see what people think, if anything.

Also, the third poem - "Puppetslave" - is actually formatted in a sixteen-square table when presented in hard copy or in word, but that didn't translate into a post here. Oddly, I kind of like the shitty, chaotic style it is posted in in this thread, so it stays like that; hopefully it still effects some meaning in that state.

Cheers!

EDIT: Poems 1 & 2 temporarily removed - will be reposted in due course.






PUPPETSLAVES UNITED:
Masculinity, escape and the dilemma of independence

BY GAVIN LUPER


- Puppetslave

- WE MUST BAN ALCOHOL ADVERTISING ON TV,
RADIO AND ANY FORM OF PRINT MEDIA

- Riffed







Puppetslave


Born ungratefully clean Baptised without ceremony Injected with cold vaccines Cooked for by microwave machine
Taught to walk by own two feet Cuddled by big plasma TV Two year puppetslave for TEE Dad-driven to university
------------------------ ---------------------- --------------------------- -------------------------
Drive to victory, every race Spit on hobo waste of space Strategise against a glitch Swallow dream and become rich
Chase marriage from necessity Get divorced by thirty-three Refinance fixed rate home loan Live forever free and die alone







WE MUST BAN ALCOHOL ADVERTISING ON TV,
RADIO AND ANY FORM OF PRINT MEDIA

Part 1

Son, don’t you want another one?
What d’you mean you’ve had enough?

I mean my head is still killing, Dad
I can’t remember where I was last night

Good man! Living while you’re still young!
Those beer bongs must’ve really fucked yous up, ay?

Of course they did. I did two stubbies
And it felt like a pincushion in my gut

Only two, mate? Don’t be a girl!
How many’d your mates have?

Matt had four on his knees then spewed on his jeans
James doesn’t do funnels. He just had one beer

Ha ha! Matt’s good value, isn’t he? Good kid?
What’s that James, a fucking faggot?
Gonna have another beer or what, Son?


Part 2

When each night’s a blot he’ll be proud
Blokehood only granted by blackout
And so irresistible to dip my feet in still
Dumb, dumb, but easy to blend this way

And to think, argue, articulate: I’m too exhausted
Permit me this one vice, and its grip
Fortressed like my father by dependency
The best and only colour in my life.






Riffed

All this living and hard-working
Irate customer placating
Swearing, weeding, redback-killing
Sweating, red dirt excavating

Consider it swill, Teacher
Consider my verbiage well intentioned
Ultimately nescient, misguided
“He knows no better, after all.”
Raised by Happy Parents
Happy Parents! What outrage!

This beer bravado, chundering
Sense-suspending, laugh-inducing
Shouting, aggressive play fighting
Blinded lusting, grotesque feeding

Consider the dialogues I avoid
Consider my predisposition fair
To reject what I find to be one-eyed
“Just a straitjacketed male.”
Comfortable with gritted teeth
Resilience and stoicism! What flaws!

This encyclopaedia-sponging
World globe spinning, barefoot walking
Occluding, trampoline dreaming
Waiting, plane window reflecting

Consider every droplet of flak
Consider that what I have touched
Is not what you like to caress
“Exhibits no appreciation of art;
if anything, inhibits it.”
Saturated with leek soup and blue trucks
Content with simplicity! What ignorance!

Consider it inconsiderate
Consider a writer with just a pen
Fractious, infelicitous brute.